Firing Line
by Unnamed.in.whispers
Summary: After destroying the slow-mo manufacturing plant in Peach Trees, Judge Joseph Dredd has the chance to present Cassandra Anderson with her badge. Both street judges need healing; physically and emotionally… but where do they start?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Firing Line **Series:** Dredd 2012

**Type:** Fanfiction **Pairing:** Dredd/Anderson **Rating:** 15

**Summary:** After destroying the slow-mo manufacturing plant in Peach Trees, Judge Joseph Dredd has the chance to present Cassandra Anderson with her badge. Both street judges need healing; physically and emotionally… but where do they start?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Judge Dredd characters or anything from the universe of Dredd. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the makers of Judge Dredd films and comics for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the comics or films. Enjoy.

()()()()()()()()

It was all about the badge.

Perhaps, to most, it was a chunk of metal... but to Dredd, it was a statement; a way of life.

It was the law; as he was the law... as the rookie he was visiting in the medical centre was the law.

He felt it with every fibre of his being; she was a kindred spirit, she was a judge… as much as she didn't quite believe it.

"What's so hard to understand," Dredd asked, feeling an odd sense of pride fill him, "you passed, Rookie. You're a Street Judge… it's down to you whether that's a good thing or not."

Cassandra Anderson looked hesitant as she eyed her mentor.

Dredd gave nothing away. It was the way he had become; hard to those around him. He tried to recall a time when the mask he wore had been a simple shield to protect himself from the hard-line he threw down in his work… but the mask had grafted onto him a little too well and absorbed into each and every aspect of his existence.

He didn't have friends. He didn't have family. He never let anyone in that close…

The mutant in front of him was probably in a position to know him better than most; she could read minds, after all. It was something he wasn't quite comfortable with…

"You… passed me?" She asked, slowly. "Even though I lost my weapon and I was taken captive."

Dredd didn't make a move, "There were extenuating circumstances."

If truth be told; he admired her. She hadn't given up. She had even spoken back to him… to him! Judge Dredd… the Judge all other Judges shuddered to see…

Anderson continued her observations.

_She had better not be rooting about in my brain, _he thought, pointedly, _or else._

But the blonde before him didn't react.

Perhaps she had the moral fortitude not to reach into another person's mind without just cause. Dredd was slightly envious of her ability… it would make his job far easier… the dispensation of justice would be a lot more certain and far quicker if all judges could read minds.

"What are you thinking?" He found himself asking, surprising himself as much as the doe-eyed young woman lying on the medical bed.

Anderson blinked, "I was told that you were amongst the meanest Judges on the street," she said, still watching him. "I was told you very rarely give a pass to a rookie…"

"You got what it takes, Anderson," Dredd shifted, his leathers creaking as weight moved nervously from one foot to the other. "Call it my gut instinct."

She finally looked away from him, "I heard about what you've been through… and I felt how it's changed you…"

He shifted again.

"Perhaps I don't think I can be a Judge because I don't know if I'm ready to be like that…" then her black eyes were on him again, "So cold and so alone…"

He wasn't sure what she wanted from him, but Dredd figured that with everything the kid had been through he could give her a few passes… so he checked the room was secure and moved closer to her bed.

"It wasn't always like this, Anderson," he admitted, "I was a recruit, just like you. I had friends and a life… at least, I think I did…"

"But you are so…" she scrunched her young face, scrambling for words, "…you. And those other guys in Peach Trees… they sold us out. For money…"

"They were traitors…"

"Yes," she shrugged… "So are my options to become like you or to end up like them? That's not why I wanted to be a judge."

Dredd surprised himself, finding his gloved hand cupping her cheek, he brushed the rising rose on her skin and sighed, "You aren't like them… you aren't like me, kid. You want to help. Your decisions are made from that. Don't let anything make you forget the reasons you had for putting on that uniform…"

Anderson looked straight into his eyes and it felt, for a moment, as though he wasn't wearing his helmet… as if she was looking right through it and right into him… and more than that; she wasn't turning away.

She wasn't scared and she wasn't disgusted with the scars she found in his persona.

As much as he tried to beat away the feeling; he wasn't certain… but he felt warm…

Dredd hadn't noticed he had bent to place a kiss on the girls head until it was delivered and she jerked back into reality with a sharp intake of breath.

Her side pulled and she pressed into the pain.

Dredd cursed himself. He hadn't meant to frighten her; he hadn't meant to get that close…

"I'm alright," she insisted. "It's alright, sir…"

But the evidence was to the contrary, as the field dressing began to darken beneath her hands.

"Damn," he breathed, hands joining hers to press against the flow of blood. "Where are the damned medics?"

"I told them to see to the civilians," she admitted, hissing as he removed their joined pressure to peel back the dressing.

Dredd goggled, "You did what?"

"They are the priority," Anderson said, ferocity sudden and clear in her voice.

"You're a Judge…" Dredd explained; almost admonishingly, "You are the priority."

"No…" she insisted, "they are my priority; protect and serve... And I'm not that bad. You can patch me up again, sir. Just like you did before…"

Huffing and muttering beneath his breath, Dredd capitulated, ordering, "Take that damned jacket off then. We aren't out in the streets now."

The leather hit the medical bay floor as Anderson reclined on the gurney and raised her hand above her head to grant Dredd access to the wound.

It wasn't as bad as he had feared. He pulled out a cleaning towel and cleared away the damaged sealant he had used in the elevator a few hours before.

A feeling of sorrow washed over him as he cleaned the blood and cleansed the torn flesh; this was her first scar. She didn't appreciate it yet… but in the end, she wouldn't be able to remember the details of how this incident had marked her. And she wouldn't be able to distinguish one scar from another.

"This shouldn't have happened, you know." Dredd admitted, searching his first aid supplies for more gauze, relived to see the flow of blood stem as he injected a painkiller and numbing agent.

"Part of the job," Anderson shrugged, her face contorting as his movements spiked pain through her.

"Hold still," he ordered and then softened, "I didn't mean you getting shot… you should expect that. It's part of the job. You should see the scars over my body from the bullets I've taken over the years…"

"Ok," Anderson breathed.

Dredd stilled, "What was that, Rookie?"

"Sorry sir," she cleared her throat, "inappropriate humour."

Dredd felt his grimace turn down further on his face; inwardly smiling at the girls gall.

"As I was saying… you shouldn't have had a case like Peach Trees and the MaMa clan on your assessment."

"I chose the assignment, sir."

Dredd shook his head, "Bad luck."

"On the contrary, Sir," she countered, "I was lucky. I had you."

He heard what she said, but figured the kid was still in shock… so ignored the comment.

"You were looking out for me," she continued.

A derisive snort sounded as he looked up to her, "If I was looking out for you, Anderson, you wouldn't have been taken hostage…"

"If you hadn't been looking out for me," she said, shifting on the rickety bed to bring their faced closer, "I know I would be dead now."

An unfamiliar feeling washed over Dredds skin; he couldn't quite describe it. So he ignored it as he removed his gloves and pressed his hands on Andersons ribs.

She inhaled again, sharply; wincing from the coldness of his skin or the intimate contact, he couldn't be sure… but he reached for the wound sealant and sprayed into the hole in his colleagues side, smoothing the foam until the patch was complete and dry.

When he had finished his work, he looked up to find the young psychic looking at him once more, the dark pools of her eyes seeming to take his whole attention.

She was worrying her lip in an appealing way; Dredd controlled himself and moved back slightly, giving himself and the young woman before him some space.

Anderson's eyes shot to his hands that still rested on her rib; "I don't think you realise… that skin-to-skin contact increases the psychic connection, sir."

Dredd felt his grimace deepen. As much as he didn't want to stop their connection, he knew the kid could probably do without the minutia of hate and death that constantly swirled in his brain like a tempest…

He withdrew.

"That's all you think you have to offer, isn't it?" The blonde said in a mournful whisper, "It isn't, you know."

Without meaning to… he stood and was across the other side of the room before thought had filtered through.

He was scared… it was an odd sensation for Dredd… but he acknowledged it. A form of distancing himself from the feeling was analysing it… he felt a pain rip through his torso, making it spike with warmth and…

"Oh my God…" Anderson gasped, "Sir… you're bleeding…"

Oh… it could have been his through shot wound that was hurting… they tended to do that.

"I'll be fine, Rookie," he said, angering slightly as his words slurred and he felt the young woman slip beneath his arm and guide him to the bed. "Lost more blood than this…"

"With all due respect, sir… shut up."

Deep inside, Dredd felt a smile; outwardly, he growled.

"I still haven't accepted the pass yet… so I am still, technically on assessment and this is my last order…" Anderson insisted, scrambling to grip the zipper on Dredd's jacket.

He stopped her, "That's stretching it pretty thin, Judge Anderson."

Their joined hands on his clothing warmed and Dredd, again, felt as though the psychic was looking through his eyes and into his soul… before remembering what she had said about touch amplifying her powers and dropping his hold.

She swallowed, dryly, and undid the fastening on his coat, slipping the leather over his broad shoulders and smoothing it down the muscles in his forearms.

The kid looked terrified, he thought. Her eyes raked over the scarred muscle and tissue of Dredds torso, before she reached out and tugged at the blood stained vest he wore, loosing it and rolling the sodden fabric up, making him reach and wince at the movement as the top caught on his helmet before unhooking and dropping to the floor.

"This might be easier…" she said, "if you took that helmet off."

He moved his head in a negative, "It stays on."

She sighed, finally turning attention to the wound. Her delicate hand covered the out-wound and she paled, "It went straight through you…"

"Armour piercing," he explained, trying to shake the drowsiness away, "flesh isn't too much of a problem for a round like that."

"We should get a medic…"

"They weren't good enough for you, Anderson," he said, goading her slightly and enjoying the look of irritation register on her young face. "I'm sure you can handle it."

Anderson looked at the task she had set herself and nodded, absently, reaching for the first aid kit he had used to tend her only moments ago… "I only know basic aid, sir."

"I'll talk you through it," Dredd said, gritting his teeth and pushing himself up on the gurney. "First of all, get a fist of that yellow foam…"

She looked at him, slightly horrified.

"And yes," he hissed, gripping a corner of the foam, "it goes all the way through… but you need to get it out to clean the wound."

"Won't that cause added trauma?"

He looked at her, "I can handle the pain," then shrugged, "may black-out due to the blood loss… but I'll be back with you in no time."

Andersons attention snapped back to him.

"Just a joke, kid."

She huffed, her fingers tickling his skin as they traced the outline of the foam sealant, "Don't call me kid."

And as he began to reply, Anderson gave a swift tug that pulled his insides out and made him curse, folding upward and bracing his hands on the girls shoulders.

She met him there, pressing her forehead against the cold, hard skin of his Judges helmet and whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… it's ok… shhh…"

That's when he noticed he was shivering… Judge Joseph Dredd was shivering in the arms of a newly qualified kid… the thought both amused and angered him.

Her hands left the support of his arms and lay on his chest; he supposed it was her way of trying to calm his raging heartbeat… but it only lead to an increase of blood rushing through him.

"Sir…" Anderson asked, shakily.

"It's ok, Anderson," he trembled, "move fast and get it done.

And she did as ordered, pushing him back on the gurney, undoing his trousers and cleaning the blood. He felt the hiss of the painkillers in his side and listened to the whir of the sanitizer as she cleaned his wound… God, it was getting hot in that little room.

"You're doing great, kid…" he said, head swimming as the room about him swayed.

"Sir…" she asked, "I'm almost done cleaning the wound… don't you pass out on me."

"Might not be able to agree to that one, Rookie…"

Her hands worked quickly and he could feel the alien presence of the sealant inside him… silently wondering how the bullet had miraculously avoided all organs and arteries…

He had always been a lucky son of a bitch; he hoped that had rubbed off on the young woman who frowned over the care she was giving him at that moment.

"Sir…" she called again…

But the heat and fatigue were too much and, accompanying blood loss and pain got the better of him as the sound of Anderson calling his name dimmed and Joseph Dredd fell into an unwilling and welcome sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Firing Line, Part 2 **Series**: Dredd 2012

**Type**: Fanfiction **Pairing**: Dredd/Anderson **Rating**: 15

**Summary**: After destroying the slow-mo manufacturing plant in Peach Trees, Judge Joseph Dredd has the chance to present Cassandra Anderson with her badge. Both street judges need healing; physically and emotionally… but where do they start?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the Judge Dredd characters or anything from the universe of Dredd. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the makers of Judge Dredd films and comics for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the comics or films. Enjoy.

()()()()()()()()

It was all about the badge.

Perhaps, to most, it was a chunk of metal… but to Anderson, it was a statement; a way of life.

It was the law; it was an ideal, a way to live without fear and raise children of the future in security… away from the uglier aspects of humanity. It was a promise to serve and protect.

Two things she failed to do in Peach Trees when she judged a man for protecting his family.

That's why she couldn't understand how the man stood before her was offering her a pass… he wanted her to be a Street Judge after the disastrous assessment in Peach Trees. Anderson wasn't even sure how many had been killed during their show-down with the MaMa clan… and her mentor was saying she had what it took to serve the public… It wasn't processing in her head…

"What's so hard to understand?" Dredd asked, as she blinked again and wondered if she was hallucinating somehow… she had been in a drug-filled environment… she was wounded and currently sitting bolt-up-right on a medical gurney… perhaps she had passed out and this was a dream…

"You passed, Rookie," Dredd continued, the muscles in his jaw contorting into what she guessed was a smile… for him, anyway, "You're a Street Judge… it's down to you whether that's a good thing or not."

The feeling of unreality took a twist into the bizarre as Cassandra felt her sixth sense spike and knew the man stood before her was feeling pride…

Pride?

How?

People had died. Innocent civilians… She hadn't passed. She had refused the badge. Why wasn't he letting it go?

It was at times like this she could bring herself to reach out and probe other people's minds. But the whole point of being gifted with the psychic ability was to remember it was a skill and a blessing that should only be used for good reason and not to pry into the thoughts of others.

That's what the tutors in the psi-division had taught her. And she agreed… but she couldn't help picking up on the swirling mash of emotion bubbling beneath the surface of her mentor… How Dredd kept such a controlled cap on his feelings she didn't know. And she didn't have the right to dig into his mind to discover the secrets behind his resolve.

"You… passed me?" She asked, slowly. Was this another test? How well she could take rejection? "Even though I lost my weapon and I was taken captive."

Looking off to the side, the Senior Judge before her seemed to squirm, "There were extenuating circumstances."

Even though she knew she shouldn't, Casandra opened up her senses and let herself feel the surface of what the man before her controlled every day… the sense of loss, of pain, of hate of those who cause pain to others… she concentrated to get past that, digging further into the ice to find strength and loyalty and a deep sense of pride. There it was again; pride. In his work and in her…

This pillar of a man had complete confidence in her.

She was shocked.

Out of nowhere, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

What was she thinking? What was she feeling? She had thought, on many occasions, she would die this day… or worse. But the greater part of her knew this man wouldn't let it happen. She couldn't fathom what he saw in her that made him count her worthy of the weight carried by a Street Judge.

"I was told that you were amongst the meanest Judges on the street," she said, still trying to un-plait the emotions now swirling around her head. "I was told you very rarely give a pass to a rookie…"

Embarrassment spiked the air and she watched the Senior Judge shift almost imperceptibly… "You got what it takes, Anderson. Call it my gut instinct."

The guy was intense; so much was going on beneath his façade that she found she couldn't quite breathe. A psychic could spend a life time trying to unravel the man… and she couldn't deal with it all right at that moment.

So she looked away… but she still needed to know… "I heard about what you've been through… and I felt how it's changed you…"

Cassandra felt the air in the room change, growing cool and uncomfortable, but she had to say it… "Perhaps I don't think I can be a Judge because I don't know if I'm ready to be like that…" she admitted, frightened by the idea, "So cold and so alone…"

She watched the man before her take the comment like a blow; his shoulders curling slightly before he straightened and looked about the small medical room. Then, almost conspiratorially, he said, "It wasn't always like this, Anderson. I was a recruit, just like you. I had friends and a life… at least, I think I did…"

She found her mouth hanging open at the confession… what was he trying to say? That someone can naturally grow so distant? "But you are so…" she scrunched her young face, scrambling for words, "…you. And those other guys in Peach Trees… they sold us out. For money…"

The comment made his back straighten and he spat, "They were traitors…"

"Yes," she understood their motives… she felt it when she came face-to-face with one of the group who was intent on killing her… "So are my options to become like you or to end up like them? That's not why I wanted to be a judge."

She couldn't believe they were the only two choices for her.

But before she had the chance to thoroughly internalise the conundrum, Cassandra was brought back to reality with the cool feeling of leather-clad fingers on her cheek.

What was he doing? Trying to look into her eyes? Trying to reassure her?

She tried to ignore the scent of leather and spiced aftershave and compose herself; but her body reacted before she could stop it, a rush of heat blazed across her cheeks…

"You aren't like them…" he was saying and she was grateful for his voice… it gave something solid to focus on… "You aren't like me, kid."

It wouldn't have been such a bad thing to be like Dredd. He was honest, to a fault. He was loyal and compassionate, though he tried not to let that show… at moments like this, it shone through…

"You want to help," he was still talking. "Your decisions are made from that. Don't let anything make you forget the reasons you had for putting on that uniform…"

She wasn't sure what to say. All she knew is that the man before her really felt like she could offer something… more. She didn't have to be a psychic to figure out that much.

Not for the first time that day, Cassandra truly looked at him. She could see the uniform and the helmet were the greater part of him. She could sense there was so much more and wondered if he had forgotten that about himself.

And then he moved forward and she, unwilling or unaware, didn't move to counter the kiss he delivered to her forehead.

The snap of emotions that ran from his skin to hers was a jolt of ice and she braced herself on the bed… the man was so intense… she had never met someone so placid looking who warred internally the way this Senior Judge did.

But the movement she made away from the ice-burn of Dredds feelings tore something very real and tangible in her side… Cassandra gasped – her senses spiking to feel the man's self-loathing… he thought he disgusted people? He thought she was frightened of him…

"I'm alright," she managed to say, pressing into the pain and hoping he wouldn't blame himself. "It's alright, sir…"

But she wasn't alright. Even she could see the blood beginning to flow once more as her superior mashed his hand to her injury.

"Damn," he breathed, but the pressure felt good… "Where are the damned medics?"

Wasn't that obvious? "I told them to see to the civilians."

She was just adjusting to the turbulence she found at the touch of the mans gloved hand when he drew back… she hissed…

He hadn't really been listening to her, but the helmet turned her was and he asked, "You did what?"

It was nothing he wouldn't do! He never thought of himself about those he served and she felt irritation spike, "They are the priority."

"You're a Judge…" Dredd countered; sounding very much like a parent admonishing a child, "You are the priority."

Cassandra angered at his hypocrisy… she was no better than him… "No. They are my priority; protect and serve... And I'm not that bad. You can patch me up again, sir. Just like you did before…"

There was a moment as she wondered if she had pushed a little too far… then Dredd turned back to the injury, muttering beneath his breath…

"Take that damned jacket off then," he ordered, grudgingly, "We aren't out in the streets now."

Trying not to let the discomfort show, Cassandra shucked out of the garment and let it fall… in the warmth of the medical room, she was glad to be free of the constriction… She didn't know if he was aware, but Dredds hands were already out and guiding her back on the gurney as he cleansed and treated the gun shot…

There was an awkward silence as she watched him work… something about him seemed so sad…

"This shouldn't have happened, you know." Dredd admitted, giving her a painkiller.

The drug was almost instantaneous; easing the sting and making her bones and muscles heavy… she shrugged, "Part of the job." She had expected to be injured in the line of duty… so it wasn't an issue.

A thought occurred and she craned to see what he was doing as the painful movement of his fingers morphed into a tickle on her flesh…

"Hold still," he ordered and then softened, "I didn't mean you getting shot… you should expect that. It's part of the job. You should see the scars over my body from the bullets I've taken over the years…"

"Ok," she blinked; did she say that out-loud? The man was hot… compact and muscular… and her superior officer! How powerful were those pain drugs?

Cassandra hoped he hadn't heard…

Dredd didn't move, "What was that, Rookie?"

Damn.

"Sorry sir," she cursed herself, "inappropriate humour." She needed to keep her guard up!

The man before her went back to his work, "As I was saying… you shouldn't have had a case like Peach Trees and the MaMa clan on your assessment."

What was he going on about? "I chose the assignment, sir."

Dredd shook his head, "Bad luck."

What?! "On the contrary, Sir," she countered, wanting to make her point very clear, "I was lucky. I had you."

She knew he was dismissing the comment as more ramblings of a rookie doped up on pain-med and she angered again, "You were looking out for me…"

A derisive snort sounded as he looked up to her, "If I was looking out for you, Anderson, you wouldn't have been taken hostage…"

The man was impossible! "If you hadn't been looking out for me, I know I would be dead now."

Dredd was still again and Cassandra wondered how they had gone from having some space between them to her sitting upright, almost nose-to-nose with the other Judges helmet…

Seriously; did he ever take the thing off?

Then he did something unexpected; he took off his gloves and pressed his hand to her bare side…

The rush of emotion, usually capped by the barrier of leather gloves crashed over her like a tidal wave… she didn't know if she had managed to stay upright… but trying to thread-out just one feeling within the man seemed impossible… he was a maelstrom!

She tried to compose herself as he continued to work on her wound and found the most immediate thoughts at the surface were surrounding her and how he regretted taking her out to face what they had… she also touched a smaller, less acknowledged, part of the man who had noticed how young and fresh she was. From that vein there were attached feelings of envy, the need to protect her and attraction…

She hardly noticed when his hands on her had stilled…

The amazing part was that he hadn't experienced any of the feeling that had, almost physically, moved her… he was unaware as his attention came back to regarding her…

Or perhaps he had… the man moved back slightly…

There was one way to find out; he had never been anything but up-front with her…

"I don't think you realise… that skin-to-skin contact increases the psychic connection, sir."

She felt the thoughts in the man darken back into a familiar self-loathing… she couldn't stop it… he wore the emotions like a jacket… and she let him back away from her…

"That's all you think you have to offer, isn't it?" Cassandra heard herself say in a mournful whisper, "It isn't, you know."

She hadn't thought it was a revelation worthy of panic… but that's what she got as the man was suddenly across the room from her before she had noticed him move.

Was it so dangerous a topic? Nobody could really think so little of themselves that they felt the need to burry themselves in a façade of coldness and control…

Then her attention was caught on her senior officers side… "Oh my God… Sir… you're bleeding…"

Shit! He'd been shot in Peach Trees… how selfish of her not to think to ask if he was alright…

"I'll be fine, Rookie," Dredd slurred.

Cassandra ignored the pull of her own side and threw herself beneath the mans arm as he swayed…

"Lost more blood than this…" he continued to protest…

She huffed, hauling his weight with effort, "With all due respect, sir… shut up."

Dredd growled and she bit down the excitement she felt at hearing the noise… _control yourself Cassy!_

He struggled slightly as they reached the medical bed… so she played her only card to earn his cooperation… "I still haven't accepted the pass yet…" she explained, "so I am still, technically on assessment and this is my last order…"

His hands stilled hers as she reached to undo his jacket… "That's stretching it pretty thin, Judge Anderson."

Cassandra couldn't help but let their fingers intertwine… he was so close… and she knew the man before her had a pride he couldn't free himself from. He couldn't be vulnerable to anyone; it wasn't the persona he had carefully cultivated over the years… and allowing her to assist him was taking so much away from his resolve…

His hand fell away from hers and she shook herself… _one thing at a time Cassy…_

Cassandra guided the heavy leather off the soft skin of her senior officer and tried not to think too much on the light scars that criss-crossed his skin… the patterns glinted of pains he was clearly trying to bury and she knew the scars he owned were not simply skin-deep.

She rolled the blood-soaked vest off him, trying to maneauver the material with as little motion as possible… "This might be easier if you took that helmet off."

He moved his head in a negative, "It stays on."

_Really?_

She sighed, finally turning attention to the wound. Her delicate hand covered the out-wound and she paled, "It went straight through you…"

"Armour piercing," he explained, trying to shake the drowsiness away, "flesh isn't too much of a problem for a round like that."

Cassandra felt her stomach flip… she wasn't sure she could do this… "We should get a medic…"

"They weren't good enough for you, Anderson," he huffed.

Was that a joke?

But Dredd looked to her again, "I'm sure you can handle it."

She was glad of his faith… misguided as it seemed.

"I only know basic aid, sir," she warned.

"I'll talk you through it," he said, brooking no argument and pushing himself up on the gurney. "First of all, get a fist of that yellow foam…"

He always seemed so certain of everything. The man made a decision and stuck by it… so she would have to do the same… though thinking of where to begin was causing her a problem as she assessed the size of the hole in her mentors side; bigger than her hand… she paled.

"And yes," he hissed, gripping a corner of the foam, "it goes all the way through… but you need to get it out to clean the wound."

She shook her head, "Won't that cause added trauma?"

"I can handle the pain," he said.

She didn't doubt the man's endurance… she was concerned about her own at feeling his pain…

"May black-out due to the blood loss… but I'll be back with you in no time."

_What?_

"Just a joke, kid."

_Yeah – hilarious_, she angered again, reaching for the sealant, "Don't call me kid."

And then she yanked at the chemical bond that held her colleagues insides in and tried not to think about the sound it made as it hit the tiled floor.

A poker of pain singed at the edges of her mind as she folded forward, finding Dredds hands on her shoulders as she reached for his chest. The motion was meant to calm him as she soothed with platitudes and apologies… instead, she found him shaking…

"Sir…" she asked, wondering if shock had set in… had she done something wrong?

"It's ok, Anderson," he trembled, "move fast and get it done."

Adrenaline firing, she tipped the wall of a man backward and tugged his clothing free to better access the wound… it looked bad… far worse than her own. How was the guy even alive? What was he made of?

She reached for the first aid kit…

"You're doing great, kid…" he murmured, concerning her more than if he had remained silent.

"Sir…" she asked, "I'm almost done cleaning the wound…" God, he looked awful, "don't you pass out on me."

"Might not be able to agree to that one, Rookie…" he slurred.

_Shit! _She reached for the sealant… it expanded and filled the space as she smoothed it over.

"Sir…" she called again… but he was out, cold.

Training took over; she checked his pulse and breathing… he was strong… he was going to be fine…

She bit her lip… _might be best to remove the helmet…_

_It wasn't necessary_, she argued with herself, _he was stable and he'd really hate it if she took the thing off without permission…_

_Then again_, she thought, _he never had to know…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Firing Line [Part 3] **Series:** Dredd 2012

**Type:** Fanfiction **Pairing:** Dredd/Anderson ** Rating:** 15

**Summary:** After destroying the slow-mo manufacturing plant in Peach Trees, Judge Joseph Dredd has the chance to present Cassandra Anderson with her badge. Both street judges need healing; physically and emotionally… but where do they start?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Judge Dredd characters or anything from the universe of Dredd. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the makers of Judge Dredd films and comics for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the comics or films. Enjoy.

()()()()()

It was all thanks to Peach Trees...

Dredd felt his lip tremor in frustration.

He held a great respect for Chief Justice Hershy; in his humble opinion as a Street Judge, there had been no better successor to Chief Justice Fargo when he took his long walk into the waste lands.

Hershy had been a fellow Street Judge; she knew the score. She stood for all the things Dredd believed in... Honour, justice, protection of the innocent... even if their methods differed from time to time.

Since she had taken the oaths and vows of the hallowed halls, there was not one order he felt inclined to disobey. Until now...

"So which treatment shall we go for first, sir?" The two-tonic blonde asked as he twizzled his hair and smoothed his skinny, black uniform, "Full body exfoliation or, maybe, a complete aromatherapy, hot stone massage?"

Dredd couldn't contain the growl...

"Or... I could just light the candles and give you a little more time to think?"

He didn't need to answer... the masseuse scuttled away quickly as light laughter sounded from his side.

"At least pretend you might enjoy yourself..."

Anderson had found the enforced R&R a welcome break... Dredd, on the other hand...

"Try to smile..." the younger Judge continued, taking an offered cocktail from the drinks-server... "And take that helmet off."

"I'm here on assignment," Dredd insisted.

"You were ordered to take this leave," Anderson corrected, "it was the only way you would come."

Dredd huffed; he had been ordered...

"The helmet stays on."

"You aren't wearing your uniform..." She pointed out.

Dredd looked at his casual dress; the tropical shirt and jeans... "It's warm in here."

Anderson gave him a long-look, "You know, you could just take the opportunity to relax..."

The thought settled uneasily in his stomach, "I don't relax, Rookie."

"Sure you do," Anderson smiled and leaned forward on her sun lounger. "You have to... you are human."

A thought he didn't like to dwell on; given the sides of humanity he had seen during his years of service.

"So why not take off the helmet?"

The thought jarred through him.

"Would it be so bad?" The kid asked, her small, pale face contorting into a frown. "The world, finally seeing Joseph Dredd..."

"Drink the rest of your Mohito, Rookie," he dismissed, she had had a few since they arrived, "enjoy the local ambiance while you can."

Anderson observed him, "You know that when you said that your face sneered."

He couldn't help it. Alcohol wasn't something that appealed to him; it dulled the senses. And a Judge without his senses was nothing.

"Is there some reason you don't want people to see your face?" Anderson continued as Dredd moved his gaze across the room; taking in the lounging elite of Mega City One... these people had no idea of the horrors that he had witnessed... they lived for pleasure facilities such as this.

"Are you scarred?" Anderson continued, unaware of her surroundings, "or is it the other way around? You're too handsome to let me lay eyes on you..."

Dredd bit down on his lip as her laughter rang through the warmth of the simulated, purified air about them.

"Or is it because you're trying to cultivate a secret identity?"

The kid went from one extreme to the other!

"Like Batman... or Spiderman..." the spark in her eye bloomed with light, "... or Superman?"

His jaw tightened, "I am not some comic-book hero, kid..."

"Pretty depressing read," Anderson snorted over her cocktail, "can't imagine it would have much of a fan-base."

"You'd be surprised."

"Come on, Dredd..." she smiled, finishing her drink, "We've earned this break... enjoy it before it's over."

He couldn't help but snort at the kid as she moved her eyes toward him, "You think that we are given time off because of a case like Peach Trees?"

Anderson rolled her eyes, "Even you need to take time off on occasion..."

Dredd thought about this... part of the job meant that the pay sucked and the perks were few... he couldn't recall his last bought of R&R...

From his side, he heard a sigh as his young partner leaned forward with curiosity... "What do you do to relax?"

"I sleep." It was the truth.

Anderson threw a sloppy slap across his arm, "Sleep doesn't count."

"It's relaxing..." he reasoned.

"It doesn't count!" She reaffirmed with a frown.

Dredd thought about his general day and shrugged, "I work-out."

The frown on the young woman's face morphed into a kooky-lopsided regard. Aside from grudgingly admitting that it was slightly adorable... Dredd realised she was trying to figure him out... again.

"What?"

"Are you telling me that all you do is work, work-out and sleep?"

He shifted, uncomfortably, in his lounger, "I also eat."

Anderson hung her head.

He didn't truly understand why she found it difficult to believe he had no other interests than dispensing law. Perhaps, a long time ago, he had indulged in the intricacies associated with the norms of life... hobbies, holidays, social events... it simply wasn't part of his life any longer.

"I'm talking friends, Dredd..." Anderson went on. "People you like."

He turned his head to look straight at her.

"Perhaps not like..." she adjusted, "but, at least, don't despise..." Anderson frowned, "Tolerate, maybe?"

Dredd thought for a moment... "There was Walter..."

"Walter?"

"Walter the Wobot..."

"A service 'droid doesn't count either!" She huffed, sliding off the side of her lounger and leaning toward him. "I'm talking about actual, human contact here… a connection…"

"I've been partnered with other judges," he thought, "like you…"

"But what about friends?"

Dredd was taken aback… wasn't being someone's partner closer or more meaningful than simply being their friend?

"Do you?" He asked, wondering if the sting he felt sounded in his words.

The young woman blinked.

He found this interesting; how easy it had been for the young psychic to dissect his life… it was a different thing when he was asking about hers…

"I have friends… from the orphanage…"

Dredd shrugged, "Enforced camaraderie," he analysed, "those people you know… would you have chosen them as friends if circumstance hadn't forced you together?"

Anderson paled; "I chose the people I am friends with…"

"Circumstance chose," Dredd said, bluntly. "Do you still talk with them…"

"No…"

"Or any of the other academy candidates you trained with to become Street Judge?"

Anderson didn't answer.

Dredd felt a familiar wither inside himself, looking at the crest-fallen expression on the young face… "Friendship is over-rated, kid. You're better off avoiding the complication."

Silence filled the air… Other patrons of the spa milled about, laughter floated toward them... the fragrance of sweet, alcohol, perfume and attraction built about them as Dredd observed the colour in his young comrades cheeks fade a little.

"You look like I just killed your dog," he said, bewildering himself as to why he was trying to lighten the doom he had brought over the young officer, "Cheer up kid, no need to get depressed about the sorry life you have let yourself in for. No need to get depressed."

"Depressed, in your presence?" Anderson questioned, lifting Dredds untouched cocktail from his gloved hand, "How is that even possible?"

And then it happened; it was in the blink of an eye... but it was there. The underhand transaction he had been sent here to find... two well dressed men in the side of his vision exchanging credit chits and slinking further into the background.

He turned to the young woman with some urgency.

"What can you sense right now?" He asked her.

Anderson blinked two, dark orbs at him as he took her arms and gave her a small, but firm shake, "Come on, Rookie... look about the room and tell me what you can hear!"

Without questioning, or even doubting him, Anderson closed her eyes in concentration and angled her head against the hundreds of voices that must have filled her head at his request to listen to the thoughts surrounding them in the well populated room.

"There's a lot of happiness, delirium, inebriation, attraction..." her eyes snapped open at the last word as she looked deeply at him.

Dredd swallowed his emotions and did his best not to cloud her with the urgency he was feeling, "What else?"

She paled... "Fear."

He felt his teeth clench, "Rat bastards," he seethed, releasing his hold on the young woman and springing up from the lounger, knowing she was at his heel.

"What are you doing?" Anderson protested, "Where are you going?"

"You aren't stupid, kid," Dredd couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice as his refusal to believe in his partners naiveté, "I'm heading up a lead on a case..."

"Dredd, we aren't here on a case!" She continued, her small hand making a grab for his arm, "We're here because we were ordered to attend by the medical division."

"We're here," he felt his teeth grind, "because Hershey thought there was something going on in the rehabilitation dome..."

"Bingo," he cheered, sarcastically, though gritted teeth. "Did you bring your side arm?"

Anderson blinked, "Yes."

Dredd stalled a moment... "Where?"

Anderson looked down to her sarong and parted it at the side...

He felt his mouth dry; pressed into the creamy skin of her thigh was pressed her Law Giver on a secure strap...

Dredd smiled.

"Where do we need to be?" Anderson asked.

"Follow me."


End file.
